


For nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart

by heryellowcup



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Broken Kara Danvers, Character Death, F/F, Heavy Angst, I'm Sorry, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, Lena Luthor Needs a Hug, No happy end, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad Kara Danvers, Sad Lena Luthor, Self-Destruction, Self-Doubt, Some Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-02 22:58:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15806271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heryellowcup/pseuds/heryellowcup
Summary: She doesn’t need to answer Alex’s incoming phone call to know that it doesn’t matter how hard she tries. Because Lena isgone, and there’s nothing she can listen for now except silence.There’s nothing to be heard.Or; Whenever Kara feels lost, she listens to the one constant in her life, Lena's heartbeat. It's what she tries to do after every particularly rough day, but this time there isnothing. Nothing but silence where the steady beat of Lena's heart should be.





	For nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a tumblr ask from @sango-blep's blog: "Can you imagine Kara going through a rough time and everything is falling apart and she doesn't know what to do anymore, so she tries to find the one constant in her life, the one thing that always calms her, tries to listen to the soothing, steady beat of Lena's heart, but it's not there?" 
> 
> I just had to! The angst in this one is real, I'm sorry. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine (or those of my amazing beta-reader). Enjoy! :)

Kara stands out. 

When she first comes to earth, her differences become very apparent in the way people treat her. Perhaps not everyone does. Perhaps it’s not always intentional, either. But it happens nonetheless. Physically, she’s as close to being human as one can get. She’s flawless, of course, but a child, too. No one notices. When Kara visits the playground, stands to the side as the one kid that no one wants to play with or, maybe, swings all by herself, sometimes she falls. Children fall all of the time. It’s inevitable, their enthusiasm and carefree demeanor far too great to be stopped by some wise words or some well-intended advice. But when Kara falls, it’s different. Her small legs don’t bruise and her knees don’t scrape like she thinks they’re supposed to. There’s no blood. No crying. No soothing. 

Most adults don’t notice, far too caught up in their own, busy heads. The other kids do. The people who matter, Kara believes, they always do. And while they can’t put their finger on what it is _exactly_ , the thing that makes Kara so different, there’s no doubt that all of them have this hunch, that something about her is not quite right. 

They avoid her, and if it’s only because her sister does, too. 

She remembers those days as if they were yesterday, the pain of them permanently engraved in her questioning mind. _Why can’t I be normal?_ Even Alex seemed to think badly of her. She remembers sneaking into the other girl’s room at night whenever sleep seemed too far away, remembers crawling into her bed in hopes to find some sort of comfort, if only short-lived. She remembers smiling, too, when Alex sometimes didn’t kick her out right away. 

Frankly, Alex comes around. 

There are days on which she feels as happy as ever when Alex doesn’t scowl at her, doesn’t push her away like she usually does. There are days on which she smiles when she is allowed to crawl into a bed of comfort, even if she has to leave a cautionary distance between the two of them. Falling out of bed, almost, and smiling while preventing said fall. And then there come days when she falls asleep in Alex’s arms, days on which she is finally able to find solace in the comfort and warmth that the other girl can provide. Not quite home, but close enough. Kara takes what she can get, always. But soon those days turn into the regular, and soon Alex’s apprehension turns into love. 

While those days feel like yesterday, still, they also feel a lifetime away. Alex is her sister, and if she could tweak the whole story a little every time she told them, she most certainly would. Sometimes she does.

And yet it is only once she’s an adult, once she’s all grown up, that she figures that the solution to feeling less different has been there all along. Right in front of her, if you will. It certainly is now, she knows. Because maybe she doesn’t _figure_ at all. Maybe she doesn’t have to. 

When Lena introduces herself, Kara experiences, for the first time in her life, what it means to be weak. She doesn’t have to _figure_ , she decides. She and Lena grow closer, day by day, and suddenly suffering together is the only option. To share, to experience standing out together. 

In her family, Lena stands out as good. Kara believes that in the whole world she stands out as good. Inherently so. To other people, Lena stands out as a Luthor. Stands out as someone they expect to be just like their family. But to Kara? To Kara she stands out as someone incredibly strong, as someone who never fails to make her heart beat faster and as someone who makes her feel weak like she never has before. To Kara, Lena stands out. 

And to Kara, humans are feeble. They bleed, they rip apart sometimes. When she first lays eyes upon Lena Luthor and her fragile, hurt demeanor that she carries around in such a beautiful way, Kara feels stronger than she has ever before. And yet, before she knows it, that feeling dissolves. Makes space for weakness instead, for the first time in her life. For all that Lena makes her feel resilient, there’s a much more bigger wave of unsteadiness that washes over her. 

Lena makes her feel feeble, makes her feel human, makes her feel giddy. 

And while it provides a similar amount of comfort, it’s so entirely different to the way she feels about Alex, or anyone else for that matter. It is quite frightening. It travels places in her mind, good and bad. But Lena stands out, and so standing out can’t be that bad after all. Kara just knows.

Her attention springs right back to Alex - all grown up and right in front of her - as soon as she feels a soft hand on her shoulder. When she looks up, she’s met with an expectant raise of an eyebrow and a questioning look. Head tilted to the side, a gesture that is almost endearing, but not so much paired with the sheer annoyance painted over her features. Alex has been on a rampage about one of their DEO cases for quite a while now, regarding the attack that took place just several hours ago, Kara supposes. She’s not quite sure when she zoned out, when memory lane got the better of her, but she is certain that Alex is done now. She is certain that she is supposed to answer, too. Certain that she might be able to blame her lack of attention on the exhausting day and an even bigger lack of sleep. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Alex asks. Kara finds that the annoyance has not manifested itself on her face alone, some remainders of it a low timber in her voice. If she looks closely, however, as someone who really knows Alex (and she does), she finds something else. A little smirk. Relief. They’re both save, and after a day like this, after an attack like this, they realize that that’s quite _something_. 

Though Kara is elsewhere again. Somewhere warm and nice, in the depths of her mind. The events of the day simmer inside of her still, and everything is loud again. Louder, louder, louder. Until she finally manages to grasp onto something. Something familiar. 

Kara smiles softly. If she listens closely enough, she can hear the steady beat of Lena’s heart in the distance. Right next to her ear, then. Soon enough it’s everywhere. 

_Thump. Thump. Thump._ So unlike the one hammering in her own chest. 

//

Kara arrives bearing gifts. Much like one would for someone’s birthday, a movie night perhaps. But there’s no birthday and all of the ice cream is threatening to melt, even though she came here as quickly as possible. Superspeed and all. The DVDs in her bag are cheesy movies, right next to them some cookies and a bottle of Lena’s favorite scotch is stored safely. She knows that a bottle much like the one in her bag might already be in Lena’s possession, either standing on the shelf that holds all kinds of content for nights like these, or already clasped in a trembling hand. The open mouth of it touching her lips right in that moment, the sharp liquid soothing. 

Every single item in Kara’s bag is something Alex usually surprises her with on what they both call _the bad days_. When everything is too loud again and Lena isn’t available, Alex comes by with that hesitant smile on her lips, open arms and a bag full of junk food and crappy movies. Kara’s intentions are of a similar, comforting kind as she makes her way up the stairs of Lena’s building, but she fears that, considering the circumstances, they might be inappropriate still. 

For now all Kara can do is selfishly hope that her sheer presence might be enough to cheer the other woman up. She knows for certain that no one else will come by. Though, she supposes, _cheering up_ might not be exactly what she should be here for. Perhaps Lena simply needs her to be there, just like Kara sometimes needs the soft thuds of her heart.

She can hear them now, too. It’s not beating any faster than it usually would. Not slower, either. But still Kara detects it to be different, in a way she can’t quite comprehend nor explain. Rationally, she knows that it should be impossible for her to know how Lena feels only through listening to something as steady as this. But she does, and she is thankful for it. 

The steady thumps grow more rapid as soon as she knocks on the door, and Kara can’t quite make out whether Lena is afraid or nervous, but the feeling is long gone when she lays her eyes on the fragile woman in front of her and immediately pulls her into a tight hug. She figures that she can just ask her instead. It’s what she came here for, after all, and she doesn’t have to rely on her newly found superpower if she just uses her mouth instead. Like she ought to. 

Now Kara knows that most might not mourn the loss of Lilian Luthor, bad mother and all ‘round terrible human being. She supposes that some might even celebrate it. She thinks that if Lena wasn’t her daughter, she might as well. But despite it all, despite all of the hate, dark clouds hang above them, tint the sky almost black. And the sadness of it all can’t be denied. 

They don’t talk a single word until they’re safely seated on the couch and Kara turns so that she can properly look at Lena. Really look at her, like no one else will these days. Even less so on this day in particular. Lots of questions will be asked, Kara’s sure of that, but all of them Lena will answer for their benefit, their profit. Kara wants to change that, wants to know. She wants Lena to speak in order to process. She wants her to be quiet and say nothing at all, if that’s what she needs. 

“I’m fine,” are the first two words that leave Lena’s lips. Kara hasn’t asked, but the question had practically been written all over her face. You didn’t need any superpower to read it, Lena hadn’t. 

“You’re _not_ fine,” Kara replies a little too fast, a little too vehemently. As though she ought to tell Lena what to feel. She corrects herself just as fast, then, with a little smile and a comforting hand reaching out to rest on Lena’s arm that is draped over the back of the couch. She, too, has turned to face Kara. Her eyes are red and stoic, as though she’s been crying and no longer wants to. “And you don’t _have_ to be! You know, it’s okay to-” 

The words die in her throat along with the painfully soft shake of Lena’s head. She doesn’t even need words to tell Kara to stop, a simple gesture like that enough to convince her that now is one of _those_ moments. That now it is time to be quiet. Lena knows Kara wants to help, but this clearly isn’t doing any of that. 

And so Kara lets her speak as she listens intently. 

“She- Kara, she was a monster.” That’s how the monologue starts and it’s, essentially, how it ends as well. The sentences Lena forms are induced with guilt, with regret, with sorrow. But Kara soon finds that Lena doesn’t mourn for her mother, just like she had suspected. Instead she grieves all of her victims, every single one of them - whether she knows them or not. At last, she mourns herself. As yet another victim of Lilian Luthor. Bad mother and all ‘round terrible human being. 

She’s more than a victim. She’s _clearly_ more than that, but Kara can’t find the right words to tell her so. She tries to spend her more comfort instead, tries to understand, but then considers her relationship with her own parents, whom she had lost as well, and decides not to speak of them. The way she feels about them now, the way she felt about them when she had first left them - had known they’d die - is so very different to the way she imagines Lena must feel. Kara wants to aid as much as she possibly can, but she doesn’t want to upset Lena either. 

So Lena keeps talking, and Kara keeps listening. She can almost feel Lena’s pain, just like she can feel the beating of her heart. They’re close now and if she focuses enough, she doesn’t need her superhearing to pick up on it. 

It’s when Lena drifts off and her eyes swerve elsewhere that Kara’s snap up and her head tilts to the side. In confusion, mostly. That is until she spots something Lena seems to have spotted long before she did, and a slow smile creeps up on both of their lips. 

“I think you forgot the ice cream,” Lena hums and Kara can only nod in agreement, before she chuckles softly and considers how worried she must have been to forget about _ice cream_. The bag that she had carelessly discarded when Lena had pulled her towards the couch is slumped over right next to it. Out of it flows ice cream, now a brown liquid rather than a frozen treat. _Chocolate Fudge Brownie_ , Lena’s favorite. 

Kara lets out a loud sigh before she gets up and starts cleaning the mess that she is responsible for. She doesn’t use superspeed, thinks that Lena might appreciate it. She could be back on the couch in a few seconds, if she wanted to, but for all it’s worth Kara supposes they both might need some of those seconds to process. To think.

Still Kara can’t clean up forever and soon she reappears next to Lena, gets comfortable next to her once again. The other woman is now holding a bottle of scotch, and Kara smiles despite not necessarily liking that sight. It’s the same that she had brought herself and so she tells Lena. 

“Will you take it away from me?” The dark-haired woman asks after she had carelessly lifted the bottle and taken a rather big swig. Her eyes look glassy and Kara can’t help but wonder whether this is Lena’s first drink that particular day, or if she had missed some of them already. 

“Hm?”

“If I drink too much,” Lena clarifies, takes another sip as if to prove her point. As though maybe she hopes Kara will deem that little more too much already. And perhaps Kara should, but she knows it gives her some kind of solace she doesn’t quite understand, and so she doesn’t. “Will you take it away from me? I know I won’t put it away by myself.” 

// 

It’s a few hours later. A few more drinks, a few bowls of ice cream and some silence later. Lena is now cuddled up in the comfort of Kara’s arms, leaning against her steady body. Her eyes are closed, but Kara can picture what exactly they would look like as she asks the question. 

“How will I get over this?” 

Kara is quick to assume that Lena means her mother’s death, like anyone in her situation would have. But just a quick thought and one single thud of Lena’s heart tells her otherwise. It’s not just this, not just today. It’s been her whole life. And frankly, Kara doesn’t know. 

Lena figures her questions needs no answer, can tell that Kara wouldn’t be able to come up with one anyways. How could she? And so she asks the next best thing instead. _What do you do in moments like these?_

Kara is so close to telling her. _Did you know I listen to your heartbeat whenever I feel lost?_

But she doesn’t. And with one more blink the moment vanishes, with one more gulp it’s gone. It’s too late, but Kara doesn’t know that yet. 

//

Another few hours later and Lena seems to have moved on to another train of thought entirely. A train of threat, to be exact, and despite Kara not having wanted to go there just yet, she knows that Lena has every right to be scared. 

“She’s gone. They’ll probably come for me.” 

Kara believes that if Lena had any tears left to shed, she might have done just that. Instead Lena worries her bottom lip between her teeth, fists Kara’s shirt that she is grasping with still trembling fingers until the blonde draws her in closer. 

“I won’t let them, Lena. I’ll always protect you, remember?” 

//

A few days later, Kara doubts she’ll be able to keep that promise. It’s easy in theory, she’d do anything to protect Lena. But there’s a little voice in the back of her head, telling her that it’s not going to be that easy after all, not after what she’s seen today. She doesn’t fly home that night. She doesn’t want to, needs some time to think, but she supposes that she wouldn’t have been able to even if she tried. Her powers have been blown out. Not entirely, but the little strength she has left she uses to do the essential tasks. _Walking. Breathing. Mourning._

She does so even as she finally arrives at her building, the stairs endless and seemingly impossible to climb. Somehow, she’s managed to convince the DEO she’ll be fine, that some sunlight in the morning is all she really needs to get better, but now she’s not so sure. Her supersuit has been ripped apart, mostly, and the little fabric that is left is black, singed by the flames they hadn’t been able to put out for so long. The flames that had slowly swallowed everyone in the building, until Kara felt she wouldn’t be able to save them all. The flames that had put Alex in the hospital. 

Kara can still taste the smoke. With every breath her tongue detects the foul aftertaste, with every gulp it infiltrates her further. The flames, the guilt that they bring. 

Rationally, Kara knows that it’s not her fault. She hadn’t been the one attacking this city, had been trying to protect it instead. _Trying_ being the key-word that plays over and over again in her head. People had been hurt nonetheless and she eventually comes to the conclusion that the arrows of guilt can’t ever point in one direction and one direction only. Partly, she’s responsible. 

As she washes the dust off of her aching limbs, she can’t help but remember Alex teaching her all of this. Arriving on earth, everything had been a challenge. Every step had to be calculated carefully, every single touch could have been deadly. Controlling her powers hadn’t come naturally to her in the slightest, and for the longest of times she’d been deadly afraid to touch _anyone_. It had been Alex who finally managed to pull her out of her misery. To _punch_ her out of her misery, so to speak. She had been quite vehement about it, had always been vehement about everything. Still is. 

Kara had been deemed her sister at this point already, no longer _competition_. 

_“One day you’ll be a hero,”_ Alex had said, her eyes hopeful and excited for exactly one second before she had quickly put her mask back on, one of confidence and her infamous _I-don’t-really-care_ attitude. And Kara, oh how much she had liked that idea. If she could only control herself, if she could only get over this, then perhaps it wouldn’t have seemed so incredibly impossible. But Alex hadn’t given up that easily, had regarded her with a cocky smirk and a challenging look just a few moments later. 

_“Punch me,”_ she had ordered, rolling her eyes once Kara shook her head, as expected. _“Come on, I’m serious,”_ she had spurred her on further. _“I know you won’t hurt me. You couldn’t.”_

Kara could very well, but she didn’t. Her first hit was barely a nudge, really, but it sent Alex stumbling backwards ever so slightly. To her defense, Alex had punched her first. Over and over again, that challenging smirk still firmly painted onto her lips, until Kara finally broke and indulged in some punches - nudges - of her own. After that, she got the hang of it pretty quickly. Careful, still, but soon enough her punches gained more vigor. Though it was only once she punched Alex square in the face that the other girl finally grinned at her and nodded. 

_“You hit like a human,”_ Alex had said, a rather mocking attempt of trying to offend her sister, and Kara had tackled her to the bed with a hug that most definitely hurt more than her foregoing punches. 

The beautiful memory dissolves, becomes one with the hot steam in her shower. It feels acid now and soon she has to step out of it, to breathe. The remainders of that day turn into something much more sinister. It’s how it all started, it was supposed to be a good thing, but right in that moment it’s nothing but a reminder that this is endangering her loved ones, too. 

It’s why she doesn’t take a cab to Lena’s place. It’s why she doesn’t call, either. It’s why she doesn’t even send a text. She’s done exactly those things every single evening that week, but suddenly she doesn’t want to impose. A safe haven isn’t exactly a safe haven when she endangers Lena while indulging in it, when someone could get hurt. Again. Kara pushes her pain to the side, along with the thoughts that perhaps Lena could help. 

But it’s loud. The guilt in her head, the city outside, all of the pain. There’s so much pain. Kara might have been strong when she first came to earth, might be even stronger now, but there are certain responsibilities that not even _The Girl Of Steel_ can carry on her small shoulders at all times. Her powers might be almost non-existent at this point, might only be a low simmer that won’t let her rest, but her superhearing still works. 

And so Kara tries to focus, tries to reach out for that one sound that never fails to calm her down. An anchor, if you will, the one constant in her life. The steady beating of Lena’s heart. 

She _listens_ and _listens_ and _listens_. Listens as closely as possible, tears welling in her eyes. And all of a sudden her own heart stops beating momentarily. She freezes, can’t breathe. Her throat constricts and she thinks she might suffocate. _Why can’t I hear it?_

_Why isn’t it there?_

_Why is there nothing?_

She doesn’t need to answer Alex’s incoming phone call to know that it doesn’t matter how hard she tries. Because Lena is _gone_ , and there’s nothing she can listen for now except silence. 

There’s nothing to be heard.

//

Strength comes rushing back to Kara immediately. Adrenaline, really, and it takes over completely. Kara scrambles up, her eyes wide and unfocused, but she finds that despite the racing of her mind, her body’s still not as intact as she would like it to be. She hasn’t even gotten the chance to soak up the yellow sun in the early morning, like she said she would, because the sky is still dark and Kara supposes it will stay that way for a long while. She thinks that the yellow light that usually aids to spend her energy might be gone forever and the one replacement for said sun, the one thing that serves a similar purpose, is gone. Where it once was is now silence. An unsettling and deeply upsetting silence where the steady beating of a heart should be. 

Kara gets up, stumbles, then falls. She begs, too, but rao is far away and so she keeps falling. 

In slow-motion, it seems. She watches as Alex enters her room, hours after her body had first hit the floor. She’s not sure how long she’s been lying here for, but with a lot of effort she manages to tilt her head to the side and outside the sky starts turning orange. She despises it. She then watches, through still unfocused and glassy eyes, as Alex speaks. She can’t hear her exactly, there’s a loud, shrill noise that keeps her from doing so. It’s only later that she realizes it had been her own crying. Her own screams, a stark contrast to the alternating whispers of _no, please no_ and _don’t leave me. You can’t leave me. I can’t lose you._

She falls and falls, and when Alex wraps her arms around her trembling body, she hits the ground, falls apart. 

Kara falls for quite a while after that. She cries, too. Has nasty thoughts and sometimes no thoughts at all. Mostly she stares at the wall, alternatively her ceiling. Looking out of the window is out of the question, would’ve felt wrong. The sky is so serene, always, and Kara is anything but that. She keeps her blinds closed for weeks. Meanwhile there are other things that seem to be a lot harder, all of a sudden. Getting out of bed, for instance. Talking is a major one, too, no matter how many times Alex or her friends stop by and ask if she’s alright. Clearly she isn’t, and so she doesn’t have anything to say. Words are just as hard to find as a certain someone’s heartbeat and spotting them between the silence is another thing that feels wrong these days. 

If Kara was being herself, perhaps she would have chastised Alex for leaving the hospital so soon, for not even staying there in the first place, even though she so clearly needed to. She would have been mad at Alex, for putting her needs over her own. She would have made her leave in order to go back to the hospital and get healthy. Instead, she kicks her out for reasons much more selfish. She really just wants to be alone. 

She avoids the yellow sun, hasn’t made contact with its usually comforting rays ever since that night. Some of them are dreading to spill through the blinds as she wakes up that particular morning. Perhaps noon. It’s a day just like any other, and so she doesn’t bother getting up for a while. Doesn’t take a shower, either, even though she knows that she must smell by now. Usually she relishes mornings like these. When there was a steadily thumping purpose, she did. But now the soft covers above her feel suffocating, make her whole body ache in the exact same way her nightmares do. The sudden anxiety comes quickly and all at once. Tears are starting to well in her eyes for seemingly no reason, but then she thinks of Lena and angrily pushes the blanket away. With a scream, another one when the lack of heat doesn’t make her feel better in the slightest. Then she bursts out into tears. 

It’s hours later that her feet finally make contact with her wooden floor. Her toes first, before she dares to actually get up. Her stomach’s been growling ever since she woke up and yet indulging in some food seems unnecessary, almost makes her feel guilty for reasons she knows she’d have to discuss with a therapist rather than her white wall that usually bounces the thoughts right back. 

She slowly makes her way to the kitchen, on a mission to find something nurturing. It’s her only mission these days, her superhero duties something she doesn’t - much to Alex’s dismay - even dare think about. Not yet, anyways. And it’s then that she spots the picture of Lena and herself, hanging on the refrigerator like it always had, smiling brightly at her as though nothing has changed. Kara doesn’t cry, not again, but she immediately turns around, leaves the room as quickly possible. 

She doesn’t enter her kitchen for a week. 

//

There’s transparency in the way Kara suffers. She still doesn’t talk much, unable to put the amount of hurt that she is bearing into something as vague and fragile as words, but her pain shapes her an open book for anyone to read. It’s embodied in the tears spilling out of otherwise empty eyes, cascading down warm cheeks and along swollen, chapped lips. Their salt makes them sting as they form lakes of agony in her lip’s caverns - carved by the feeling that is being without Lena. Kara feels rather numb, doesn’t notice even when she carelessly runs her tongue over them, a gesture that had once been reserved for feeling nervous in front of a certain dark-haired woman, now a sign of the everlasting anxiousness that has settled deep within her quite a while ago. It has very much so started to become second nature to her. Frankly, the burn of salty tears is nothing compared to the lack of someone to hold onto. 

Kara’s silence in itself screams so loudly, her usually upbeat demeanor long gone. The little part of it she still tries to uphold is barely a shadow of a ghost. One can look right through it, as well as see every dark patch of guilt that’s so clearly visible in the body that has given up its rebellion and is now slowly starting to fade. 

And yet there’s one person who doesn’t quite see it, doesn’t completely understand. Perhaps wilfully so. Or, perhaps, Alex’s own way of dealing with grief, dealing with _this_ , is so very different to the way Kara does that she would rather find solace in her blissful ignorance than to compromise her stoic want to keep everything bottled up. One rarely gets hurt that way, or so she likes to believe. Though the weight of her own worry is heavy and, bound to the vulnerability that comes with communication, it sinks to the bottom of the ocean. Figuratively. Literally, she figures her sister might be just as incredibly talented at respressing all of her feelings as she is herself. Perhaps she is afraid that Kara is _not_. 

Alex tries her best, of course, comes by with potstickers and movies and all forms of comfort her sister usually relishes, but Kara doesn’t want to talk and Alex doesn’t understand that all she really needs is _time_. Time and Lena, alive. Instead, she gets advice. Kara knows that all of this is bigger than her own suffering, but it doesn’t matter how many times Alex tries to convince her to go back to being Supergirl again, she won’t. She can’t. “The city needs you,” Alex keeps repeating. 

“But I need _you_ ,” Kara wants to reply. _“I need Lena.”_

She never does, and so Alex is left wondering what to do. 

Sam says that Alex might feel helpless, overwhelmed. For once she feels as though she is the one that has to carry all of the weight and responsibility on her shoulders, now that Supergirl is gone. That, and seeing her own sister this lost and unable to find light again might hurt. It’s what Sam says, anyways, from an outsider’s perspective - of course - but Kara believes that if they cared enough, maybe they’d realize that she feels just as helpless. More than that, even. She believes that one can cope with feeling helpless, somehow, but Lena will be gone forever and there is absolutely nothing she can do. She wants to talk, wants to accept their help as well as all of their incoming phone calls, but in the end she feels as though it won’t make even the slightest of differences. 

Because she now has to live with the insufferable feeling that is being alone. She knows that, technically, she isn’t. She has Alex and Sam; she has friends. People that care about her. But in missing Lena, she’s completely and utterly alone. No one else does, and so far she doesn’t quite know how to live with that. No one else has to live through this, has to cope with the pain, not even the people that definitely _should_. It’s something she deems more unfair than anything else, and the sheer injustice makes her cry yet another time. 

There is no funeral. No celebration. Just Kara. 

And soon everyone will forget, she knows. _People live on in memory_ , it’s one of those things she would have gotten to hear if there had been, in fact, a funeral. To say that she fears being the only one that will keep a part of Lena alive is an understatement. But she will, for she is angry that the whole world seems to move on, that the planet earth finds it to be acceptable to just keep turning while a piece of it is missing. 

The audacity this damn planet seems to have. And yet again Kara misses home. 

//

Agony, Kara soon finds, is just like any other bruise. It’s impossible to leave alone, and so she keeps prodding at it with trembling fingers. Soon her whole body seems to be covered in them, and she’s afraid that if she stares at the wall any longer, it might turn blue as well, into a violent sky that aids as replication of her still blind covered windows. Adorned with dark clouds and thunderstorms dreading to break out. Losing Lena has made her feel blue all over. 

With each step she takes onto the right path, she does not feel better. Instead, she merely leaves a print, a dark trail of worry that she can follow right back whenever she feels like it. It’s too easy, like breadcrumbs leading to her inevitable death, and so she simply falls back into old habits, over and over again. 

It doesn’t really matter who tries to help, who comes by with an open ear and helpful words. They always find Kara in the same position, the same teary eyed expression and the unwillingness to do _anything at all_. It’s usually when she starts crying silently and tells them to leave, that their foregoing optimism dissolves and yet another person is left feeling rather helpless. There’s no way out, it seems. 

Until something changes. 

It’s nothing, really, an insignificant detail in the way Alex looks at her. One wouldn’t have noticed without having grown up with Alex, but only then is the sudden determination in her eyes clear as day. Helplessness Kara barely sees in them anymore, but a certain gleam has found its way back there when her sister comes barging into her apartment that particular day. There’s no pity and at the same time too much of it, still, and for the first time Kara actually considers what Alex is telling her, bothers to come up with something that resembles a reply.

Alex goes on quite the rampage, actually, and by the end of it Kara finds herself smiling ever so slightly. 

“People are causing harm, you know? And even worse, Kara, people are suffering! They’re crying for help, for someone to save them, for Supergirl to save them. How can you not care?!” Kara does care, very much so, but she doesn’t say a word. Alex huffs, frustrated, her tone accusatory. “Actually, it’s a crime. Duty to rescue, remember? I swear if Eliza was here she might think you’ll end up going straight to hel-” 

She wouldn’t, but they both know what Alex is trying to accomplish here. It’s working, and for the first time in a while a witty remark leaves Kara’s lips, just as she shrugs nonchalantly and eyes Alex challengingly. “I don’t care. Hell’s empty and all the devils are here.” 

“Did you just quote Shakespeare?” An earnest question that comes with a relieved smile and another step closer into the right direction. 

“What if I did?” Soon enough, Kara’s grin matches Alex’s. 

//

Kara can barely open her eyes. She tries, several times, but immediately has to squeeze them shut each and every time for the room is incredibly bright despite her blinds still being closed. She squints in order to see anything at all and when she does, she realizes that the light is of a source very different to the yellow sun she’s been trying to avoid. It’s fluorescent and harsh, makes her feel uneasy. It’s also then that she notes the lack of any windows at all, and yet there’s a deeply unsettling breeze that causes a shiver to run down her back. 

And not only is there a lack of windows, but rather a lack of _anything at all_. The walls are white, a now troublesome color. Just like the wall in her own room, the one that bounces her nasty thoughts right back. Except that she can barely think, both her mind and body feeling quite heavy, her eyes unfocused, trying to find something that she can hold onto. But here’s nothing. Nothing that she can hold onto, nothing she can emotionally connect with. 

She has no idea where she is, but at the same time _she does_. She’s been in rooms like this before, many times, but never before has she found herself on this side of the table, bound to her chair by the sheer humiliation that is having to be here in the first place. Usually she faces criminals between white walls like these, questions them alongside Alex. But she’s no criminal, she’s Supergirl. And she has done nothing wrong. There’s absolutely no justification for the sudden wave of guilt that rushes over her. For the almost unobtrusive trembling of her fingers and the clenching of her heart, the tears welling in her eyes. _She has done nothing wrong._

A sudden impulse, and she struggles to wake up, needs to get out of here. _Lena._ Over and over again does she see her die, even though she never truly has. And so her own imagination turns into quite the weapon, one she actively tortures herself with. Purposefully or not, there’s no way to stop all of the questions, just like there’s no way to answer them. They’re loud, louder than her uncontrolled superhearing had ever been and even more scary - they’re inside of her. There’s absolutely no way to escape and the walls seem to eye her mockingly as she keep struggling. 

When she opens her eyes yet another time, for real this time, it’s quiet. 

For a long time she just lets herself be, lays on her bed and suffers in silence. Tries to breathe through sobs and this suffocating feeling that won’t let her go. Her body is shaking, still, and hot sweat has broken out on her skin, causes strands of hair to stick to her forehead. She feels hot all over, and yet she can’t bear to let go of her comforting blanket for she now finally has something to hold onto. There’s no brightness in her room, but her eyes are still unfocused. Her wall is a similar shade of white to the one the whole interrogation room had been painted in, but it’s notably less threatening and so she almost feels as though she can look at it. Like she has for weeks now. 

Her heart is hammering in her chest, like the blasphemy that it is, and then the voices come back. She can still hear them echoing in the depths of her mind, every question sharp and out to kill. Every single one of them hitting their target perfectly. And with each new question mark Kara sinks deeper and deeper into herself until she screams and screams and wishes herself to a time before all of this. 

She’s in her own room now, but the interrogation still hasn’t ended just yet. 

_You still think she’ll come back eventually, don’t you? You still think she’ll come home._

Everyone that knows Kara likes to describe her as everything good. Lena had, too, and so it hurts significantly more when she suddenly finds herself back on the wrong side of that table. The guilt is real now, not just a dream, and she has never felt this compassionate towards any and all of the criminals she’s encountered before. For all she knows, she’s one of them now. 

She bathes in the guilt of her new-found identity as someone who has wronged people, as someone who has failed Lena, until the vigorous questions succumb to something a lot stronger, something worse. Kara only gets a few very short moments to breathe in a now comforting silence before she hears it. 

She never actively listens for them, but one way or another they always manage to infiltrate her further. The cries of help. She listens and listens, just like she had listened for Lena’s heartbeat. Only that she isn’t a willing participate this time. And instead of the frightening stillness she had experienced that one night, there is now something different, distressing in another way enitrely. Thousands of cries for help. Cries for Supergirl. 

Kara wants to so desperately, but in the end she’s unable to do anything except wonder how she could possibly help them, if she couldn’t even help the woman she loved. The woman she had promised to protect, always. In the end, the only sound she’s actually willing to listen to are her own sobs and the frantic beating of her heart. The destruction she leaves by not doing anything is nothing but a haunting background noise that she’ll never be able to shut off. 

There’s nothing to distract her from it, either. And there never will be, she knows. 

It’s only in nights like these that the slightest shimmer of hope manages to shine through her sorrow, only to be shattered by the stark reality that cannot be denied. She knows that Lena is gone and she falls a little faster whenever she dares to hope. Soon, Kara fears, she might hit rock bottom. Soon, she fears, she might lose any chances of ever getting up again. 

It doesn’t help that time seems to go by more slowly, ever since Lena is no longer. Endless hours turn into endless days, into endless weeks and endless months. She has suffered for so long already, and yet this night in particular is eternal. For how long she listens to her own heartbeat instead of Lena’s, she doesn’t quite know, but there is some light fighting itself through her blinds once she is starting to pace through her room and she knows that dawn must be arriving soon. 

She does something brave, then. Something quite scary, outside the bounds of her habitual suffering. Kara is frightened, at first, but when she closes her eyes she can almost see the bottom and so she figures that opening her eyes for a little longer won’t do any harm. 

She opens her blinds. The yellow sun that has become something scary by association is nowhere to be seen just yet, and Kara is glad for it. Instead, she can see stars. An insane amount of them, tiny specks of hope sprinkled across the dark, tragic universe. They’re not her home, nothing to be comforted by, but Kara thinks some of them might be just as dead. For once, that seems like a good thing. It’s, in a way, reassuring. Their light lives on in memory just like Lena does. It’s a reminder of the beautiful thing that they’ve once been. Still are, somehow. She thinks that they might be closer to Krypton, too. 

She wonders if perhaps Lena is there now, if perhaps she is _home_. 

//

“I thought you were starting to feel better,” Alex exclaims as she strides into the apartment, finds it to be in an even worse condition than it had been in those past weeks. 

It worries her, Kara can tell even through all of Alex’s walls. Still, she simply shrugs. She knows that Alex is right, had seen the glimmer of hope herself, when they had last talked to each other. But she has since learned that hope can only ever be shattered, and so she decides not to indulge in it any longer. Looking at comforting stars is nice, but it has nothing against the stark reality that is anything but comforting. 

The disinterested shrug and lack of eye contact, however, seems to bother Alex, and she’s met with the infamous rise of an eyebrow and a look that she is sure could have been deadly, if it wasn’t also just as affectionate. 

“Kara, I don’t-” Alex comes to a halt by herself, and perhaps wanting Kara to look at her in response has been her intention all along, for Kara finds that gleam of dedication again. Perhaps she has given up, but Alex hasn’t just yet, and she won’t let this go. And as much as Kara wants to shrug yet another time, wants to disregard it all, she can’t help but be thankful. “You can’t stay in here any longer. You have to do _something_. I can’t even begin to imagine how you must feel, I know, and if I’ve never really expressed that before, I’m sorry. But this can’t keep going on like this. People are being hurt and in the meantime you’re hurting yourself, too. Please.” 

Kara considers it. She really does, for the first time in a while she considers helping people, helping herself. She’s not quite sure what has changed, except that she’s followed her own footsteps back to the depressing hole she had dug for herself, but the idea that Lena might be _home_ seems to not have brought bad things only. Not just tears and screams for the sudden realization of how final this is, but the determination she has certainly inherited from Alex as well. If Lena really is home, then perhaps it is indeed time to do _something_ , as her sister has put it. She doesn’t quite know what, or how, but she figures that listening to Alex might be another first step onto the right path. 

And so Kara nods, a gesture that draws another confused look out of Alex, just before it grows curious and rather surprised. “What?”, she asks, barely daring to hope. 

It feels strange, saying it out loud, and Kara has to take a deep breath before she does so. She almost stops herself, but then she remembers one of their talks a while back. When she had focused enough, she could hear Lena’s heartbeat in the distance. If she focuses enough now, all she hears is people that need her. And so she is willing to try. For Lena, to somehow take her silence back. 

“I want to help.” 

There’s nothing, absolutely nothing in this world that could replace the look on Alex’s face. Even more so everything Kara gains from it. 

//

There’s a public outrage. Supergirl is gone, they’ve been left alone. There’s no one who can help in times of worry, they’re on their own. Kara has watched the news reports , has heard snippets of conversations without having wanted to listen it. She knows that for every bit that they are mad, they are scared even more so. _Should we lose hope_ , they ask. Just days ago Kara’s answer would have been a definite yes. She, for one, has lost it long ago. 

But something changed, and Alex predicts that the public outrage will be even bigger once she steps back onto the streets. It’s quite the polarizing concept, but for the most part she’s met with euphoric faces and bright smiles, when she finally leaves her house again that day. With Alex by her side, her body trembling, each step as careful as the ones she had taken upon first arriving on earth. She feels more vulnerable underneath the blue sky than she had ever before, and the rays of sunshine that tickle her skin warmly feel as strange and outlandish as they feel soothing. It’s a sensation that has become unfamiliar to her, and she almost feels bad for enjoying it the way that she does. 

It is her main source of energy, after all, and so perhaps it’s no wonder that she feels almost alive for the first time in a long while. A rush of energy and adrenaline rushes through her immediately and while the rays of sunshine won’t ever be able to fill the space that Lena has left, Kara thinks that they might steady the gaps so that they won’t leak as much. Perhaps she truly is like Alex in that way, too, wanting those feelings to stay bottled up inside of her, safely. When she is Supergirl, they’re not for anyone else to see. 

Though it is hard, to obscure the misery that she is feeling still. There’s a spike of betterment as soon as she leaps up high into the air, flies so close to the sun and the blinded stars above her. Perhaps to Lena, too. The city beneath her seems so small from up here, and finally Kara feels bigger than her agony. 

But the farther she flies, the louder the screams become. The cries of help that now reach her ears unfiltered, as she tries to help them like she used to. They’re impossibly louder in person, impossibly more terrifying too. _She couldn’t help Lena, so how could she-_

She stops herself, thinks of Alex and how she believes in her, even after all of this. After her own downfall, after she had essentially hit rock bottom without as much as batting an eye. She hadn’t cared, but now she does, and so she tries to calm her breathing as she tries her best, enters burning buildings and saves people out of the river. The infamous smile and small-talk is not included in today’s saving, but she hopes they might be the following days. Eventually. 

It goes smooth for quite a while, until the trembling starts again and Kara finds out that recovery does not ever go that smooth. It had been nothing but another false shimmer of hope, a misleading ray of sunshine that isn’t soothing it all. They seem to be burning her skin, after a while, for she feels sick and unable to breathe upon noting that even now she can’t save them all. It’s what she should have expected, but every dead body reminds her of Lena and so she fails yet another time. She fails more people, falls and breaks apart in front of them instead of doing what she ought to. 

An anxiety ridden and internally suffocating Supergirl can’t aid the city all that much, Alex realizes when she finds her sister a few hours later. She’s leaning against a white wall, head resting between her knees that she had drawn close, desperately rocking back and forth in order to soothe her own sobbing. _Crying, struggling, slowly breaking apart all over again._

// 

When Kara arrives back at her apartment - she refuses to call it home now - there is once again no heartbeat to listen out for. If she has to bear even more agony in face of an unsettling quiet that is only ever interrupted by cries for help, she thinks she wants to be alone at least. 

She kicks Alex out, leaves her no other choice and goes back to staring at her wall. It’s no longer part of an interrogation room, if only for the fact that there are no more questions that have been left unanswered. _Lena is gone_ , she is sure of that now. _There is no hope_ , she is sure of that as well. _She has failed_. She is certain. 

_She is not worth it_ is one of them as well and yet Alex comes back hours later, when she thinks Kara might have had enough time to calm down again. She brings Sam as well, doesn’t think she’ll be able to face her sister otherwise. She feels the guilt now, too, for she has promised Kara that going out again was the right thing to do. She had been so incredibly sure of it, and yet it had left Kara feeling worse than before. 

Kara goes back to not wanting to talk, at first, but soon enough they’re in the living room and Kara is looking at them with red, swollen and angry eyes. Being mad at Alex is not something that she wants to feel at all, but it seems inevitable, increases with every word that escapes the other woman’s lips. 

Before they know their softly spoken words of worry turn into weapons. Whispers turn into screams and the act of comforting turns into a full blown war. Sam in the middle, Kara and Alex attacking each other relentlessly. Most of the words they’ll regret later, they know, but still this outburst had to be expected at one point. Keeping things bottled up does harm people, after all. And they both have to learn that the hard way. 

By the time the deciding words are being spit out, they’ve both cried themselves into a rage that has nothing at all to do with each other. But they’re here now, they’re vulnerable and great targets. It escalates quickly, and whatever Alex says barely even stings. 

“You can’t mourn Luthor forever.”

It’s what brings the startling calm, both of them blinking at each other before Kara replies bitterly. “Her name is Lena.” 

Alex shrugs and Kara takes a step forward. Not the right direction at all. “Say it. Say her name.” 

There’s a shake of a head, followed by a clenched jaw. Alex speaks before Sam can intervene and halt the destructive words. “It doesn’t matter what her name is. People need you, Kara, so if you stopped mourning for your fucking girlfrien-”

“She is not my girlfriend.” Every word emphasized by another step forward, until Alex is being backed up against the walls. Two pairs of hands are being turned into fists while Kara replies. She is not her girlfriend, has never been. Denial goes a long way, she has found those past few weeks, but with every repressed emotion comes a breaking point. Considering how eternal her feelings for Lena had been, still are, it ought to be huge. 

“What is she then? If she’s not your girlfriend, why are you still-” It’s almost mocking, until Kara cuts her off with a hand to her throat.

And so the breaking point arrives. Before Kara knows she is losing it completely. Threats turn into actions and the way Alex struggles against her almost sparks some sort of relief within her. 

“What she is, Alex?” Kara repeats her sister’s words. They sound even more mocking coming out of her own mouth. She laughs, even, right before she squeezes her hand tighter around Alex’s throat. She clenches her jaw as well, gritted teeth revealing the words she never thought she would say out loud. “She’s dead, that’s what she is.” 

Kara feels Sam’s hand on her shoulder before she hears her desperate begs that are asking her to stop, not to hurt Alex. It’s about that time that her laughter turns into sobs and realization dawns on her. It’s also when she breaks apart once more. To her surprise, Alex holds her. Tightly, so. Runs weak fingers through her hair as they both slide down the wall and become one crying mess. No longer rivals, but two people that have to stick together one way or another. 

//

It’s Sunday mornings spent together in the warmth of Lena’s bedroom, it’s long talks at night while the wind is howling outside. It’s impulsively flying to Iceland so that she can show Lena the Northern lights. 

It’s the agony of knowing that she can never have any of this ever again.

It’s coursing through her whole body, pounding in her ears, in what she later realizes might have been a steady beat.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me in the comments! (or message me on tumblr @superlcorp)
> 
> Seriously, let me know what you think. Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


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